different
by roxminallo
Summary: What happens when everything around you is suddenly pulled out from underneath you? What happens when the one thing that can turn your life around, suddenly isn't there? Nothing is the same, and everything is... different. One-Shot. SoRiku.


**Title: **different

**Author:** roxminallo

**Disclaimer:** Square-Enix own's ALL rights.

**Rating:** G - No Mature themes.

**Author's Note:** Hmmm.. There's a lot to say about this. What I had originally planned for it, is not what it came to be. I'm actually _proud_ of it though. I have never written something like this, and I feel that it is successful in its own way. ATTN: This is boy x boy love, specifically Riku x Sora. Please review, and critique. I can't grow and get better without you. I hope you all enjoy this one-shot, for there will be many more to come. Hopefully ones that aren't so dark. But who knows where my mind will take me.

**Setting:** New York City

**Date Begun:** April 25th, 2013

**Date Posted:** April 25, 2013

* * *

_The next, uptown 1 train, will arrive in, 13 minutes._

You have got to be kidding me. He should have known better. He _did _know better.

_Tap, clank, drip._

_Drip. Drip. _

He looked down the long winding tunnel, hoping that the intercom had been wrong, and hoping that he would soon see bright lights with an illuminated red "1" attached to the front of the train.

But that would be convenient. That would mean, that _something_ had gone right today.

In fact, absolutely nothing went according to plan. He began to think that the entire day was a dream, with a sole purpose to raise his blood pressure and quake the foundation of his personal, and business life.

_Drip._

He looked to the side, watching as a steady stream of water trickled down from the ceiling and onto the tile floor at the far end of the station. During the day, Columbus Circle would be booming, _teeming _with businessmen and college students.

At night, however. Well, night was… _different._

He looked up the illuminated sign and read the entire line carefully, making sure that he wasn't missing any information.

_Uptown 1 to 242 St. - 11 mins._

He looked to the end of the station, watching as people ascended the stairs to the upper level. It wasn't till he finally continued breathing did he realize that he was following them. He quickly found his way onto the street in front of Central Park West. At night, it was… _different. _

_Tap, clank, tap, clank. _

Horses galloped by, carrying lazy tourists and boys and girls to destinations of their choice. For the people that were less fortunate to enjoy all that New York City had to offer, there was an alternative way to return home.

He began walking, slowly but surely, across the street and onto the avenue that runs parallel to Central Park West. He remembered what his mother would say.

_At night, Central Park is… different. Stay away; take a cab if you need to._

He could handle himself. He had _always_ handled himself.

So tell me why, oh _why, _could he not handle this?

He stepped onto the corner of the street, and flung his arm into the air. He closed his eyes to the deafening drone around him, secretly wishing to be back on the islands, where the palm trees swayed, and the water lapped onto the shore with a gentle motion that calmed the sky above. He felt the rush of wind as taxi upon taxi sped by him, their yellow 'on duty' sign illuminated brightly in the night sky.

He let his arm drop to his side, feeling the dejection that the nightlife of the city around him seemed to give him. He continued to walk, past 59th street, and onto 60th.

_Twenty-six blocks to go._

_Tap, clank, tap, clank._

Buzz, buzz, chime, ring.

He placed his already shaking hand deep into his pocket to extract his phone. His stomach dropped, knowing just who this would be. He knew what they would say, would they would want, and what they would do.

It all stemmed from _nothing_ going as planned today, and everything seeming… _different._

The message was simple. A question of concern.

_Where are you? Is everything okay?_

Where was he? Was he at the office, where Cid had explained for the seventh time this week that he was _replaceable; _was he at the theatre, where he is constantly reminded of all the things that his friends succeeded at, but he never could, or was he in the middle of nowhere, trying to find the one thing that would make him happy after a day like this.

_Riku. _

_Tap, clank, tap, clank._

_Twenty-four blocks to go._

He thought to reply, but decided against it. What would it matter? The day had decided his fate; he simply needed to live it.

He decided again to fling out his arm, just as the wind picked up. Early November in the city that never sleeps was never relenting. The wind would beat against your stiff body, immobilizing you beyond belief. The nip at your nose and ears was enough to make a man mad.

_Screech, beep._

He turned around, seeing that a taxi had finally stopped. As he slid into the backseat, he found that his mouth was speaking before he even thought of what to say.

"86th and Broadway. The northern end, as fast as you can."

He pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, already ready to give its entirety to the cab driver in the seat ahead of him.

_Beep, beep, churn. _

He felt his stomach toss; unsure is the reason was because of the driving, or the closeness to the one thing that could turn this day around.

_Riku. _

_Buzz, buzz, chime, ring. _

The message was complex, a stressful statement.

_So good to see you tonight, Sora. You don't know how happy it made me feel to see you in the front row of the house. I hope that we can catch up soon, I don't think Riku would mind letting you go for one afternoon. _

Would he though? Honestly, would he mind?

He would.

Sora hasn't necessarily been responsive to his fiancé's wishes lately. Not with his boss at his throat, or his friends successes, or the constant reminder that him and Riku seemed so… _different. _

_Churn, screech, stop._

He handed the man the bill, and stepped out of the car and onto the pavement. It was right in front of him. What he had been looking forward to all day, but what he had known would probably fall through.

He walked into the small café, located on the northern tip of 86th street and allowed his eyes to dart around the room.

He should have known better. He_ did_ know better.

"Sora dear, you just missed him. He said something about going on a walk."

He exchanged a glance with the woman that he had come to know as close as a sister could be. He allowed a single word to escape his mouth, afraid that if more words left he wouldn't be able to turn back.

"Thanks."

He tracked his steps back to the taxi, allowing himself to stare into the street, watching the numerous cars drive by. He turned his head gently to the left, and spotted a green awning with a white '2360' plastered to the side of it.

It wasn't till he continued breathing that he realized he was walking towards it.

With a simple turn of a handle, and a wave to the doorman, he felt himself walking a familiar routine.

_Press, wait._

_Ding._

He stepped inside, knowing exactly where the elevator would take him.

As he stepped out onto the sixth floor, he let his legs take control of his mind, leading him down one narrow hallway, and down another.

Staring closely as his body walked closer to the red painted door with a '6J' placed delicately in the middle of the woodwork, he felt a hand reach up and knock not once, but three times.

_One, two, three, four._

He waited.

_Knock, knock, knock, wait._

No answer. He felt his body slump against the floor, feeling his head rest against the red painted door. He couldn't cry, and couldn't think. He stared directly into the floor, wishing that it would open up and swallow him whole.

As if the day couldn't get worse. As if his boss didn't tell him that he was close to being fired, as if his friends didn't show him why they're successful and he's not, as if the only thing that could make this day better was suddenly ripped away.

_Riku. _

"Sora?"

He heard a voice. Not _just_ a voice. But _the_ voice. The voice that could make him forget that he could be without a job, that he would never live his dreams, but could somehow make all of that seem unimportant.

A hand was placed on his shoulder, while another was placed on his chin, lifting it ever so gently to an angle that pleased the silver-haired man in front of him.

A chaste kiss was placed on his lips, the lips that refused to smile the entire day.

"I was worried sick that something happened to you…"

_The _voice was gentle, scared, and loving. The voice picked him off the ground, and carried him into a warm home. A home with dark wood flooring, and beautiful tan walls. A home that was filled with love. A home that he lived in.

He found himself in a bed. _His_ bed. He felt an arm snake around his waist, pulling him closer to a source of heat. A source of comfort.

He realized that this heat, and comfort, came with a voice. Not _just_ a voice. But_ the_ voice. The voice that said three simple, yet world-changing words.

"I love you."

And suddenly, everything was…

_different. _

* * *

Let me know what you think. Review, comment, critique. Any bit of help would be incredible.

Aiden.


End file.
